Spoils for the Dragon King
by Graf Eisen III
Summary: Aegon and Rhaenys escape King's Landing with their mother and Jaime Lannister. Viserys sails from Dragonstone, and the Kingsguard flee Dorne ahead of Ned's arrival. Dragons gather, and sow the seeds for a war in the lands of ice and fire...
1. Prologue Part 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, names, and any copyrighted material used in this work. This is a fanfic, period. Everything belongs to their respective owners. Comments and constructive criticism are all very much appreciated.

Spoils for the Dragon King

Prologue Part 1

"Your Highness…!"

Crown Princess Elia Martell turned sharply to face the door as it burst open, the rotund form of Lord Varys, Master of Whispers on the Small Council of King Aerys II charging through with an expression of alarm on his face. "Lord Varys…" she said wearily. Judging from the expression on his face, it wasn't anything good. Not that any news had ever been good ever since Rhaegar had abducted the Stark girl, with tragedy after tragedy coming one after another.

 _Is it worth all this, Rhaegar, all this death and destruction…? Was your precious prophecy worth your death by Robert's hand? Is it worth risking the lives of your children?_

Elia felt the weight of the dagger she kept hidden in one of her sleeves, but it was vanity. She knew that against a trained warrior she was nothing. It didn't mean that she would just go quietly if it came to that though.

 _And judging from the eunuch's expression, it might be coming to that soon. I do not fear death…but Aegon…Rhaenys…_

"Your Highness…" Varys said, gently but firmly taking her by an arm. "…you must hurry. Take your son and follow me. The city is lost, the King followed Maester Pycelle's advice and now the city pays for his blindness. Please, we have little time."

Elia didn't hesitate. The city might be lost, but perhaps she and her children might yet escape this. And if anyone could get them out of the city from under the rebels' noses, it would be the Spider. No one else in the Seven Kingdoms was as capable of ferreting out secrets and working in the shadows as he, save perhaps her brother or Lord Tywin.

"What of Rhaenys…?" she asked as she swept from the nursery, a cloak wrapped over her shoulders and cradling a sleeping Aegon in her arms. As she said the words, heavy footsteps rumbled down the hallway outside, and Ser Jaime Lannister appeared along with her daughter.

"Mother…!" the princess cried out, running to Elia's side. "Mother…outside…I can hear them…screaming…what is happening? Where is father…?"

"Hush love, hush…" Elia said, cupping her daughter's cheek with a free hand. "…don't worry mother will keep you safe, I promise."

"Your Highness…" Varys urged, and with a nod Elia followed the eunuch followed in turn by Jaime and Rhaenys. The eunuch led them down several corridors to a large, shadowed tapestry, which turned out to conceal a nondescript door behind it.

 _Thank the Seven for Maegor's paranoia…_

Elia's thoughts on the matter broke as a particularly loud crash could be heard echoing through the Red Keep. Jaime swallowed dryly. "They've broken the front door then." He said, and in the next moment was following again as Varys led them through the labyrinth of secret passageways built into the Red Keep.

"Where is the King?" Elia asked her voice coming heavy. She stumbled and would have fallen had Jaime not caught her by an arm, and in so doing showing his tight expression. Elia swallowed and nodded.

"I see." She said, and nothing more was said. Later on she would wonder why she trusted someone who'd apparently broken his oaths, but at the time she couldn't care less. All she wanted was to get her children out of the city to safety, and she was willing to trust the Spider's word. If the Spider felt that Jaime could be trusted despite what he'd done, then for now she'd follow his lead.

The group moved quickly through the shadows, and in what felt like hours but was no doubt less than ten minutes were exiting through a trapdoor at a hidden dock on the Blackwater. Jaime and Varys helped the princess and her children out before closing and hiding the trapdoor behind them. Some distance away a nondescript ship was waiting, already ready to cast off it seemed.

"Where are we going?" Elia asked as she, her children, and Jaime ran towards the ship with Varys.

"To Pentos…" Varys answered. "…ever since the news of the Trident reached the city, I have made arrangements just in case. Men await you there, to escort you to the house of one Magister Illyrio. He is kin through his mother's side, to House Blackfyre."

"Blackfyre…" Jaime echoed. "…can we truly trust him?"

"And you Lannister…" Varys said in response. "…can we trust you, when your father is the one ravaging the city behind us?"

Jaime said nothing, but simply narrowed his eyes and nodded. "I've failed as a Kingsguard…" he said as he urged a confused and shocked Elia and her children up the ramp to the ship's deck. "…but I won't fail as a knight. I promised Prince Rhaegar I'd keep his family safe, and I will do just that."

"And your father…?"

Jaime said nothing, instead following the Targaryens up the ramp and into the ship. Varys smiled. "I will send word for Prince Viserys and Queen Rhaella to join you at Pentos, until then, may the Seven watch over you."

The ramp was withdrawn and Varys hurried back into the tunnels while the ship slipped away into the Blackwater and into a greater mass of ships as those that could fled the city and the sack thereof by the Lannister forces. Jaime joined the princess on the aft deck and watched as King's Landing burned behind them.

"Why?" she asked.

"For once in my life…" Jaime said at length. "…I wanted to be my own master. And I made a promise. That's all there is to it."

Elia looked at him with an undecipherable expression on her face. "And the King…?" she asked.

"You know as well as I do how obsessed he was with Wildfire." He answered. "Compared to what's happening now…what my father is inflicting on the city…it's nothing to what His Grace wanted."

"I will not forget this." Elia said, turning back to the city behind them. "And neither will my children."

"I know." Jaime said. "I only ask that you remember that not all of us are like him."

 _Spare my sister._

Elia stared at Jaime in the eyes for several moments, and nodding left for the lower decks. Jaime stared where he was, letting King's Landing's fires be seared into his memories.

* * *

Lord Eddard 'Ned' Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Lord Paramount of the Northlands and Warden of the North dismounted as he arrived at the Tower of Joy. He knew he was at great risk here, at the very threshold of Dorne, but with the Dornish army destroyed at the Trident and the loyalty of the Reach to the Targaryen cause in question he had a good chance to slip in, rescue his sister, and get her back to safety.

Gods…there was no question that this war was a just one on their part. His sister kidnapped…his brother and father burned alive…but the sack of King's Landing, the despoiling of Rhaegar's body on the Trident…Robert had every right to be angry at what Rhaegar had done, but to go that far…Ned feared what this war was doing to them. And there was no excuse for what Lord Tywin had done. If the man had simply taken the city with minimum bloodshed, or even slain King Aerys…but to put the city to the sword…

 _Rhaegar's wife and children were in the city…for all Rhaegar has done, they didn't deserve to suffer the same fate as him._

No one responded as Ned and his party had arrived at the tower, but as they approached the gates they swung open from the inside. Ned and his men went on guard at once, and then relaxed as a fearful servant emerged. "L-Lord Stark…" she stammered out. "…the Lord Commander said you would arrive. P-p-please follow me…"

Ned made a gesture to his men, and then followed the servant as she led them into the tower. The Northmen stayed on guard, wary of an ambush. Surprisingly the servant didn't lead them up to the tower's quarters, but to a large room on the ground floor. A trio of Silent Sisters waited on one side, and a casket adorned with a direwolf emblem was in the centre of the room…

 _No…no, no, no…! After all that death and suffering…it couldn't have been for nothing!_

Ned clenched his fists, fighting to keep his emotions in check as the men behind him swore angrily, kept in check only by his example. "How…?" Ned finally managed. "How did she die?"

"L-Lady Stark…" the servant said fearfully.

"Peace woman…" Ned said, taking a deep breath and letting grief sooth his anger. Lyanna was spirited, but gentle for all that. She would not want him to lose himself to his grief, and harm someone who most likely had nothing to do with the tragedy Rhaegar had inflicted on the realm. "…I give you my word that no harm will come to you."

The woman nodded, and after a few moments spent on calming down spoke up. "Lady Stark was with child." She said, and Ned's face twisted with grief. "She died in childbirth."

"And the child…?"

"S-she named him Jon a-at her last…" the servant answered, quivering and stammering in fear once more. "…the Lord C-Commander said that he belonged with his family a-a-and…"

Ned closed his eyes, fighting down the rage inside of him. It wasn't enough that Rhaegar had abducted and raped his sister, he also had his legacy take her life away.

 _It wasn't the child's fault, was it?_

The rage slipped away, replaced by shame. The war had changed him too, he realized, and he glared at the men behind and causing them to fall silent. He'd lost his sister, his brother, his father, and now here he was, blaming a child – Lyanna's child – for something that he could not be held responsible for.

He nodded at the servant. "I gave my word." He said. "You may go in peace, and we will take my sister's remains with us."

The woman nodded frantically and fled, the Silent Sisters following sedately and silently in her wake. The men glared at the servant as she fled, but shied away from the sisters. The Stranger's Brides were not as other women, and the prudent knew better than to look upon them with anything less than the proper respect.

"My sister belongs in the north, with her ancestors." Ned said. "Come, let us leave this place and finish what we came here to do. The sooner we do this, the sooner we can go home. There is nothing for us Northmen here in the south, nothing but loss and sorrow."

The rest of his men respectfully stepped forward and raised the casket, taking it out with them. Nothing was said, and nothing needed to be said.

* * *

"They escaped?" Robert Baratheon, soon-to-be King of the Seven Kingdoms roared. Varys kept his expression neutral, but gave a nod in response.

"My little birds spotted them boarding a ship along with Ser Jaime Lannister…" he said. "…perhaps they intend to join the rest of the Royal Family north at Dragonstone, or south to Dorne…"

"To the Seven Hells with your little birds…" Robert spat, and Varys fell silent. Jon Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, Protector of the Vale and Warden of the East coughed, and Robert fell silent. For all Robert's anger, this man was one whose person and wisdom he respected, so much so that even Robert would not raise his voice against.

" _For now, at least…_ " Varys thought. " _…the man is a skilled commander and a fearsome warrior, but Robert Baratheon is much too short-sighted to be a good king. Lord Arryn will undoubtedly become his Hand, and mitigate the damage to an extent, but enough will be there that while restoring the dragons would be difficult, it would not be impossible either. It will take time, but the Dornish are nothing if not patient. And His Grace is part-Dornish…_ "

Varys returned to the present as an exasperated-sounding Jon tried to reason with him. "Be reasonable Robert." He was saying. "The realm as it stands is barely holding together as it is. Our kingdoms stand together, but you must bind the Lannisters to us and to your House before Lord Tywin decides that his son's loyalty to the Targaryens would be better rewarded than we would his decision to support us at the last. And it must be done while the Reach wavers. If we bind the Lannisters to us now, the Reach will have no choice but to bow…"

"No…!" Robert ground out, with his fist striking a nearbly table resoundingly. "I won't set Lyanna aside for that Lannister bitch! I fought this war to be with the woman I love, and if I can't have her as my queen then…!"

Robert's tirade broke off as loud knocks sounded on the door. Jon sighed. "Enter…" he called, and the door opened to allow a very nervous-looking soldier in.

"…is there news?" Jon asked, and the man swallowed before nodding.

"We've received a raven from Lord Stark." He said. "Apparently he's on his way back…"

"See Jon…" Robert interrupted with a smile, recalling Jon's worries about Ned's mission to Dorne once they'd learned of Lyanna's location. "…there's nothing to be worried about. Ned's more than capable of taking care of himself."

"I believe that there is more to this, is there not?" Varys interjected, earning him an irritated glare from Robert and an acknowledging nod from Jon.

"So it seems." The Lord of the Eyrie agreed, glancing at the soldier as he did so. "Continue…"

The man swallowed and concluded with a shaky voice. "L-Lord Stark…" he said. "…he said that…that…Lady Stark died from childbirth…"

Robert Baratheon's roar of anguish and rage echoed through the halls of the Red Keep, followed by the sound of a wooden table being hurled to break against a stone wall. Across the Narrow Sea, the dragon prince and princess stepped onto the docks of Pentos with their mother and knight protector, the latter looking at the foreboding storm clouds behind them over the sea. On a ship bound for the same city along with the rest of the Targaryen fleet, Prince Viserys did likewise, as lightning flashed and thunder boomed, the wind picking up and the waves cresting around him.

Robert's Rebellion was over, but the stage was already being set for another war.

* * *

A/N

And so we begin...


	2. Prologue Part 2

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, names, and any copyrighted material used in this work. This is a fanfic, period. Everything belongs to their respective owners. Comments and constructive criticism are all very much appreciated.

Spoils for the Dragon King

Prologue Part 2

The port of Pentos was filled with ships. That in itself wasn't unusual, as trade was the lifeblood of the city as it was with the rest of the Free Cities of Essos. What was unusual about many of the ships sitting in harbour was that many of them flew not the multitudinous flags and pennants of the guilds, merchant princes, and such of the Free Cities, but the three-headed red dragon on sable of House Targaryen, last of the dragonlords of Old Valyria.

And until recently, the royal house of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. Now the ships and men – and their families – of Dragonstone waited in harbour for their lieges to decide their future. For now the Pentosi tolerated their presence, but not for long: a choice would have to be made soon.

Within the city itself, at the residence of one Magister Illyrio Mopatis, Rhaella Targaryen the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms warmly embraced her good-daughter, Crown Princess Elia Martell. Accompanying the heavily-pregnant queen was her son, Prince Viserys Targaryen and Ser Willem Darry, formerly master-at-arms of Dragonstone. Following in their wake was Magister Illyrio Mopatis and three Kingsguard members, and a nervous-looking wet nurse holding a small bundle in her arms.

"We were so worried." Rhaella said, her face – old beyond her years – betraying her relief. "When we heard what had happened…thank the Seven for Varys' foresight. All this time…we suspected he had ulterior motives…in the end he was the one who was loyal, and it was Pycelle we should have been wary of."

"None is more relieved than I, Your Grace." Elia said with a smile. "It's good to see you again. But that is in the past now, and if we are to have a future for our family, we must move quickly and decisively."

Rhaella nodded her agreement, and then glanced sharply at Ser Jaime Lannister as he drew his sword. The rest of the Kingsguard tensed…and then relaxed a fraction as their brother knelt before the queen, his sword held horizontally before him. "Your Grace…" Jaime began. "…I accept full responsibility for my failure at King's Landing. I only ask a chance for atonement, if that be your will."

The knights of the Kingsguard, Prince Viserys, and the queen all looked surprised at this, well acquainted as they were with the youthful – but not completely unjustified – arrogance of the youngest of the Kingsguard of the late King Aerys II. All save for Elia, who had persuaded and coached the knight to this point. Jaime wasn't happy about it, but he recognized – sullenly it must be said – that something like this had to be done.

Rhaella traded a glance first with Elia, and then to Viserys, and then back to Jaime. She sighed. "Rise Ser Jaime…" she said. "…Princess Elia has already informed me by raven about your actions, and your reasoning. None here knew my brother and husband better than I did, and I am not surprised at what he had in mind. I absolve you of what you have done, but as a knight of the Kingsguard…"

The queen trailed off and looked at Ser Gerold Hightower, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. "…as a knight of the Kingsguard I must entrust your future to the Lord Commander." She concluded.

Jaime nodded, and rising sheathed his sword and stepped back. Rhaella turned back to Elia. "We must talk soon." She said. "But the journey while short was rough, caught as we were by a storm at sea. It was good that we left Dragonstone when we did, if we had left a day later, I fear that the fleet – and my son and I – would have been lost. I would rest first, before we decide on what we must do soon."

Elia nodded. "I understand Your Grace." She said. "Perhaps you would like to see Aegon and Rhaenys, while you rest?"

Rhaella smiled and nodded in agreement, and Viserys in particular looked happier at the prospect of seeing Rhaenys. It wasn't unexpected, as Viserys had always been fond of his niece though Elia hoped nothing more would come of it other than friendship. Purity of blood was fine in concept, but given that it was what had madness flowing through the blood of so many dragonlords…

Elia sighed, relaxing as the queen left. With the queen gone and dealing only with the knights of the Kingsguard she needn't be so formal. She might be close to the queen, but propriety demanded – even in a relatively-public place as the interior courtyard of Illyrio's home – this much. In private though…

"Ser Gerold…" Elia finally said. "…I understand that the final decision is up to you, but I would ask that you show leniency to Ser Jaime. His actions while…reprehensible, ultimately saved the lives of the people of the city, and by saving the lives of my children to say nothing of myself, he has cut himself off from his family. I vouch for his loyalty, if not to the late King, but to House Targaryen."

"I understand Your Highness." Gerold said, and Elia smiled.

"It's good to see you again, Ser Gerold." She said, and the knight smiled back at her.

"Likewise Your Highness…"

Elia nodded and looked at the rest of the Kingsguard. "Ser Oswell…Arthur…" she said. Ser Oswell Whent returned her nod, but Ser Arthur Dayne did not, the Sword of the Morning having an expression of anguish on his face.

"Princess Elia…" he began. "…I…that is we…"

"I know what you want to say Arthur." Elia cut him off with a sigh. "You want to say that if you went against what Rhaegar must have told you to do, had you been at the Trident, then perhaps things would be different. And they might. But 'might have been' and 'what if' won't help us right now, and I understand the pressure you were under all this time. I don't blame you, and I would say that you shouldn't blame yourself. And that goes for all of you."

Elia raked the three knights with her eyes, and they nodded at her in understanding. "If you still wish to assuage your guilty consciences…" Elia continued. "…then do your utmost with what is to come. If Her Grace's letters are any indication, what comes next will be simple compared to the war with Robert, but success is imperative. I… **we** will be counting on you."

"We won't fail Your Highness." Gerold said with a note of iron, and Elia smiled.

"I know you won't." she said, and then she turned to the wet nurse and walked closer. "This is Rhaegar and the Stark girl's child, yes? And as she is not here or for that matter Lord Stark is not on our heels, I imagine she is dead then?"

Gerold and Oswell alike looked weary at her questions, and the anguish returned to Arthur's face. Elia sighed. "Rhaegar…" she said wearily, and then shaking her head took the baby boy from the wet nurse's arms. "…does he have a name?"

"His mother…Lady Stark named him Jon before she died." Arthur answered, looking away in shame.

"And so his name shall be." Elia said, marvelling at how little of her late husband was in the boy's features. He was pure Stark. "I will raise the boy as my own, along with his brother and sister, but I will give his late mother her due respect, something that my husband did not."

The knights looked surprised at that, but Elia just smiled at them. "I won't deny it my friends." She said. "I am **furious** at what Rhaegar has done. If he had taken a paramour I might have understood, and I would have accepted it if he had had a bastard with said paramour, for such is the way of my homeland. But to abduct a daughter of a Lord Paramount and one already betrothed to another…"

Elia shook her head. "Nevertheless…" she continued. "…the child is not to blame for his father's actions. I am better than that. I will speak to the queen about legitimacy, and well…we shall see."

Elia nodded at them again, and then left further into the Mopatis residence followed by the wet nurse. After a few moments of tense silence the magister left as well, leaving the knights alone. At length Jaime sighed and unclipped his cloak from his shoulders, and folding it held it out to the Lord Commander. "You saw right through me, didn't you?" he asked.

"Princess Elia has a theatrical side, it seems." Oswell said. "There's no way you would have done that on your own volition Lannister."

"No I would not."

Gerold took the offered cloak, but did not set it aside. "Is it true?" he asked instead. "Is what the queen and the crown princess implying true? Would the King truly have set the city ablaze with Wildfire?"

"Let Robert rule over dust and ashes…" Jaime said with a haunted expression on his face. "…those were his words to the three pyromancers that I slew outside the throne room, and the same words he was ranting as I approached him with my sword drawn."

"And then what?"

"He asked me where the blood on my sword had come from, and why I had not come bearing my father's head." Jaime said bitterly. "My father…I knew he was ruthless, but I never expected him to go so far as to sack the city. After the Trident I had half-expected he'd do something as he did, offering the city to gain favour with Robert Baratheon…but never that."

"What will you do now Lannister?" Oswell asked.

"There's no turning back now." Jaime said sadly. "Father won't risk an opportunity to have Cersei as queen, and Robert will never forgive me for helping his contenders for the Iron Throne get away. For good or ill, my fate is now bound to the dragons."

"Do you really think I will let you stay in the Kingsguard?" Gerold asked neutrally. "After everything you've done?"

"Probably not…" Jaime admitted. "…but Kingsguard or not, I **will** stay with Princess Elia and her children. Before Prince Rhaegar left, he asked me to protect his family. And I have done that, and will do so again if need be."

Gerold stared at Jaime in the eyes for several moments, and then exchanged glances with Oswell and Arthur. They nodded, and to Jaime's surprise Gerold unfurled Jaime's cloak and draped it once more over his shoulders. "The King lives for the sake of his people." Gerold said. "King Aerys was mad, but at least in death the lives of millions were saved. In a twisted sort of way it is a fitting death for a king. And you Ser Jaime, you are loyal to King Aegon, are you not?"

Jaime narrowed his eyes, and straightened. "I am." He answered.

"Then do your duty, Knight of the Kingsguard."

* * *

"You are brave Lord Arryn." Prince Doran Martell, the Prince of Dorne said as he sat alone on one side of a table opposite Lord Jon Arryn and Lord Kevan Lannister. They were in a room in his palace at Sunspear, with a set of windows looking out over the sea. Also in the room were two Martell household guards along with a pair of knights, one with the emblem of House Arryn and the other the emblem of House Lannister. "And I would say the same for you Lord Lannister, to come here to Sunspear in person to offer terms of peace."

The prince paused ever so slightly, smiling in warning, the two lords instantly seeing the resemblance between the man and his brother, Prince Oberyn 'the Red Viper' Martell. "Let us not mince words my lords." He said. "It is obvious that if not for the actions of Ser Jaime Lannister, a true lion among serpents, then right now my sister and her children would be corpses offered to curry favour with Lord Baratheon. Thankfully that has not happened, but even so let us deal with this quickly so that you may be on your way, for Dorne is not particularly welcoming at this point in time."

Jon nodded slowly. "Very well Your Highness…" he said, knowing the truth of Doran's words and unable to deny them. And to his self-disgust, he found himself wishing that was what had happened. So long as Aegon and Viserys lived, then Robert's claim to the Iron Throne was in question. And many lords of the Crownlands and the Reach would hold onto that question for a long while yet.

And to make it worse, Jon knew that they couldn't just be done away with (especially Aegon), not without risking a revolt from Dorne. Oh Dorne couldn't win against the other kingdoms…but it didn't have to. As long as it didn't lose, then it would be a festering wound in the side of the realm.

And not losing was something that Dorne was very much capable of doing.

"I will get to the point then." Jon said. "King Robert has no desire to prolong this terrible conflict, not when justice and restitution has been won, and only seeks to see peace and prosperity return to the realm. To that end he would ask for your oaths of allegiance, and a renunciation of any and all support for the Targaryen claim to the Iron Throne."

" _As I foresaw…and also as you foresaw Queen Rhaella…_ " Doran thought. " _…now to draw the web…_ "

"Those are understandable terms Lord Arryn." Doran said aloud. "With that said, Princess Elia and her children are kin. I am willing to accept your terms, but I have terms of my own. It is a simple one, but as one who fought a war for the sake of kin I am sure you will understand it: we will not support the Targaryen claim to the Iron Throne, but we will not renounce kinship or support for our kin, nor will we tolerate any and all attempts on their lives. Do I make myself clear, my lord?"

Jon sighed and nodded. "You do Your Highness." He said, knowing that Robert would not be pleased by this. But he understood the reasoning behind Doran's terms, and he could not in good conscience go against them, not without making himself a hypocrite.

They had gone to war for the sake of kin, as was only proper. And Dorne would do the same for their kin.

" _Well…_ " he thought. " _…at least we managed to gain a renunciation of Dornish support for the Targaryen claimants. That's something at least, though I suspect that if push comes to shove it is obvious who Dorne will support. I must convince Robert to accept this…a task made much harder by the Targaryen fleet docked at Pentos._ "

"You have something say, Lord Lannister?" Doran was saying.

"Yes…" the man said in reply. "…my brother, Lord Tywin, has asked me if it was possible to ask for your assistance in entreating his son Ser Jaime…"

"Ser Jaime Lannister is sworn to the service of House Targaryen." Doran said. "And he has proven his loyalty to them. I doubt if I can convince him to abandon that loyalty, when he has already proven it in the face of his father's army."

" _According to Lord Varys, he slew King Aerys though._ " Jon thought. " _If that is the case, then why did he help Princess Elia and her children escape? It makes no sense!_ "

"If there is nothing more to be said…" Doran continued. "…then please take your leave. As I have said, Dorne is hardly the most welcoming place at the moment."

The two other lords rose and bowed, and were escorted along with their knights away. Doran stayed where he was, and a few moments later and a cloaked informant arrived and bowed. "What news?" he asked.

"Our emissaries to Lys have sent word: the magisters have accepted House Targaryen's offer, and will support Queen no Princess Rhaella's plan."

"And what of Tyrosh and Myr…?"

"According to Prince Oberyn the Archon is still wavering but many of the Tyroshi nobility are willing to accept the princess' offer. He is confident that the Archon will ultimately agree, and that the plan may proceed. Our emissaries to Myr also report the same: the magisters waver, but enough have agreed that once success is apparently inevitable, they will accede to the plan."

"Good…" Doran said with a nod. "…send word to Pentos. Inform Her Highness that her plan may begin."

"Yes Your Highness."

* * *

Ser Jaime Lannister looked up at the three-headed red dragon on sable as it flapped in the morning breeze, the war galleys, dromons, and countless smaller vessels of the Targaryen fleet – formerly the Royal Fleet of the Seven Kingdoms – prepared to weigh anchor and set sail. Nearby the Lord Commander was sending out the final instructions to the fleet commanders, while everywhere sails were being unfurled, and men rushed to stations.

Jaime had expected to be left behind in Pentos – again – to guard the Royal Family, but to his surprise the Lord Commander had decided to entrust that task to Ser Arthur Dayne. It was thought that given that assassins paid with Lannister gold would probably be homing in on the Royal Family even as the Targaryen fleet prepared to set sail that the most skilled of the Kingsguard would be best suited for such a task.

And the Sword of the Morning was without a doubt the most skilled not just among the knights of the Kingsguard, but among all knights alive.

A part of Jaime felt outraged at the thought, but he knew that was just his vanity.

Oh he was skilled…but compared to Arthur…

"A copper for your thoughts, brother…?" Oswell asked, and Jaime glanced at him as the knight walked closer.

"I was just thinking…" Jaime answered. "…that I never expected the queen no it's princess now to be capable of preparing a plan like this. Subtle and bold in equal measure…"

"Neither did I, to be honest…" Oswell agreed with a chuckle. "…but you know what they say about the Targaryens: when they are born, the gods flip a coin to decide whether madness or greatness be their lot in life. And perhaps, Her Highness' greatness might just have been overshadowed by the late King's madness all this time."

"Perhaps that is the case brother…" Jaime said with a nod. "…and if so, then let us go and earn our keep, and at last prove that we are worthy of the cloaks we wear."

"Well said, Ser Jaime…" Gerold said as signals flashed from all over the fleet to be interpreted by the men of the flagship. "…the preparations are complete. We sail south!"

As the waves broke on the hulls of the Targaryen warships and sails ballooned with the wind, Ser Jaime Lannister of the Dragonsguard looked up at the three-headed red dragon on sable once more.

 _Let us go then, to glory…!_

* * *

A/N

I wonder if any can guess what Princess Rhaella is planning to use the fleet for.


	3. Prologue Part 3

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, names, and any copyrighted material used in this work. This is a fanfic, period. Everything belongs to their respective owners. Comments and constructive criticism are all very much appreciated.

Spoils for the Dragon King

Prologue Part 3

The Targaryen fleet encompassed the Stepstones from the north, the smaller ships moving in to land troops on the islands and to flush out the pirate ships infesting the archipelago to face the war galleys waiting out in the open, rather than risking the lumbering vessels in the narrow straits between the islands. House Targaryen deployed four thousand men, exiles from Dragonstone fighting for a new home and beginning for their families even now waiting encamped outside the city of Pentos to the north, along with another four thousand Dornishmen provided by Prince Doran Martell in honour of his sister and her children.

Ser Gerold 'the White Bull' Hightower personally led the assault on the largest of the islands, Bloodstone, a crescent-shaped island with a mountainous spine surrounding a sheltered lagoon facing to the east in the northwest of the archipelago. Targaryen soldiers and Dornishmen swept through the abandoned villages clustered along the shore from the ships now filling the lagoon, overrunning the flimsy fortifications the pirates had hastily built on the ridges above the lagoon and advanced towards the ancient castle built by Prince Daemon Targaryen in times past.

Gerold was known as the White Bull for his great strength, and still remained the strongest among the Kingsguard – or as they called themselves now the Dragonsguard – of Prince Aegon Targaryen. This strength showed as the Lord Commander shattered the poorly-forged cutlass of a pirate before him, the blow continuing down to carve the pirate in half from shoulder to hip.

Nearby Ser Jaime Lannister easily swept several crossbow bolts out of the air as he closed, cutting down the crossbowmen with ease before toying with and then running through another one of the pirates. Ser Oswell caught a halberd with a hand on its shaft, using it to pull another enemy close and bashing his throat in with his sword's pommel.

Behind and around the Dragonsguard red-cloaked Targaryen soldiers stormed the castle (or rather reclaimed it for its rightful heirs), the dirty floors running with blood and the air filled with the sounds of screaming, shouting, dying, and the ring of steel striking steel.

At length the last of the pirates fell, gurgling as his throat was cut open with a slash by Jaime. Targaryen soldiers broke the door to the main hall down, and then paused after they took a few steps further into the hall beyond. It was packed full of women and children and the elderly, the inhabitants of the villages further down at the coast. Many of them were captives or were born in captivity, bound to life under the pirates who held the island under thrall, while others were relatives to those self-same pirates.

But it was the only life they had known, and now it was thrown into chaos by these newcomers in red and black carrying steel stronger than their masters carried. Gerold stepped forward, motioning for the men in front to lower their weapons and reassuring the people before him somewhat.

"Who here speaks for all?" he asked, and for a moment there was no response. And then murmuring and whispers broke out, and eventually an elderly man stepped forward.

"I do." He said, and Gerold nodded at him.

"I am Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of the Dragonsguard of Prince Aegon Targaryen, and I come to reclaim this island and others like it in his name and that of his family. There is no point in further resistance. Surrender and your lives will be spared."

Again murmurs and whispers broke out. The old man listened to another one of his people and he licked his lips. "The strong come and take as they please." He said. "What difference does it make whether it's a Valyrian prince or a petty pirate who rules us? We only ask to be allowed to live our lives in peace. Can your prince give it to us? Can you?"

"Bend knee…" Gerold said. "…and I give you my word: these islands shall be under the aegis of House Targaryen, and so it shall be for those who dwell on them."

The old man looked at his fellow islanders, and then sighing wearily – what choice did he or they truly have – bent knee. Others followed suit, the rest – no doubt those with pirate relatives – only doing so at the end out of pragmatic self-service.

Gerold knew that piracy had a strong hold on the hearts of locals which had called the islands home, but felt confident that by settling the exiles of Dragonstone – and he knew that other settlers would come from the east in particular Lys which looked upon the Valyrian heritage of House Targaryen highly – that would not be a problem in the long-term, especially as the plan called for all the islands to be brought under Targaryen rule. And a few examples from those who persisted with piracy should be enough to further drive the point home.

The Stepstones would be House Targaryen's new home and stronghold, and law and order would come with them, as part of the agreement with the Free Cities.

* * *

Elsewhere a group of fifteen pirate ships sought to break for open water and safety. Opposing them however were five war galleys and fifteen smaller vessels. Signals flashed from the Targaryen ships, calling for the pirates to strike their sails and prepare to be boarded.

The pirates responded by going faster, but unfortunately for them the Targaryen ships had the wind behind them, the Targaryen ships manoeuvring to encompass the pirate ships. "Light…!" the order was shouted, and torches were put to oil-soaked projectiles on catapults.

"Ready your bows!" another order went out as the catapults hurled flaming projectiles at the pirate ships. The nimble vessels avoided them easily, but the archers now had the range, and followed-through quickly as the catapults reloaded and the Targaryen ships manoeuvred closer. Arrows and flaming projectiles continued to rain down on the pirates, the former more effectively than the latter.

As the ships closed, ballistae fired hooks at the pirate ships, drawing them closer for boarding actions. One Targaryen ship didn't bother, instead breaking one of the pirate ships before it apart with the iron spur mounted underneath its prow.

Actions like this were taking place all over the Stepstones, the pirates finding themselves the targets of a ruthless campaign of extermination by the Targaryens. Only those who laid down their arms and surrendered were spared, but pirates being pirates most preferred to go down fighting than bend knee.

And go down fighting they did.

Many called on aid from their cousins in Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh, only to find to their angry surprise that no help was forthcoming. The leaders of the three cities had ultimately agreed that letting House Targaryen settle down on the islands and destroy the pirates for good in the process would ultimately redound to their benefit in the long-term, while providing a buffer between them and the Seven Kingdoms considering the otherportions of their agreement with Princess Rhaella Targaryen.

Curses and accusations of betrayal were of no good: the Myrmen and the Tyroshi were unmoved, least of all the Lyseni. The Targaryens were of _pure_ Valyrian descent, and as such the Lyseni were more inclined to be sympathetic than most. Surrendering their claims to the islands was more than fair for what was being offered in exchange, and at no cost to them whatsoever.

Lyseni pirates in particular though proved to be an interesting case, and one which proved to greatly speed up the campaign in the Stepstones. Bands of Lyseni pirates – usually those with Valyrian blood in their veins – offered their allegiance and assistance to the Targaryen forces in exchange for pardon and amnesty. Oh they knew that they would have to give up piracy afterwards, but skills earned as pirates on the seas could be put to use in more legitimate ways, and both the Lyseni pirates and the Targaryen soldiers and sailors knew it.

Thanks to their assistance, what would have taken few months at the least took barely over a month to finish, the defectors giving the Targaryens valuable information about pirate holds, how they operated, where they sailed, and other such information, and even fought alongside the Targaryens on more than one action. By the end of the campaign, the three-headed red dragon flew unchallenged over the Stepstones for the first time in centuries.

* * *

Even as the campaign in the Stepstones drew to a close, Princess Elia Martell waited to receive most unexpected visitors in a chamber of Magister Illyrio's home. Those visitors were Lords Eddard 'Ned' Stark and Howland Reed, shown in by a pair of Targaryen household guards. Their arrival and _request_ for an audience had come as a surprise, with a runner boy from the docks bringing the news to the Mopatis residence for the price of three silver stags.

And apparently, it was done in secrecy _without_ the knowledge of Robert Baratheon, given the lack of warning from their agent in King's Landing.

"Lord Stark…" Elia began with a nod of greeting, the Targaryen guards leaving the two northern lords alone with the princess…and Ser Arthur Dayne, against whom two-on-one odds were little challenge. And if the northerners were more formidable than expected, the Targaryen household guards – to say nothing of the magister's own Unsullied warriors – were but moments away in case things went wrong. "…welcome to Pentos. This is a most unexpected pleasure."

"Likewise Your Highness…"

"Please sit…" Elia gestured, and the two lords acquiesced. "…wine…?"

"Thank you but no."

"Of course…" Elia said with a nod…and proceeded to provide herself with wine of her own. She had to admit it was amusing to note the veiled expression of unease on the northern lords' faces, no doubt thinking they had insulted her by rejecting her offer of refreshment for fear of poison…and then to see her drink some of the offered and rejected refreshment herself. "…shall we get down to business then?"

"Of course Your Highness…" Ned said with a nod, and looking very uncomfortable cleared his throat. "…my sister's son…I was told that he…"

"Jon…his name is Jon…" Elia interrupted, setting her glass down on the table between them and sitting back on her chair. "…that was the name his mother had given him according to the Kingsguard, and that is the name he will bear for his life, as a sign of respect to his mother."

Elia sighed and narrowed her eyes at Ned. "You are here for him, are you not?" she asked.

"The boy belongs with his family." Ned said firmly, and Elia smiled.

"Are Aegon and Rhaenys not his family…?" she asked, and Ned looked uncomfortable. "Lord Stark, do not misunderstand me: I know that you are a good man, and that you would no doubt do your utmost to ensure that your sister's son gets the upbringing he deserves."

"But…"

"Indeed…" Elia said with a nod. "…there is one particular issue with me turning over Jon to your care: that of his parentage. We in Essos are not completely unaware of what words are currently circulating in Westeros, and I know that the news of Lady Stark's death as a result of childbirth is now known among the nobility and to an extent the smallfolk as well."

That it would harden Robert Baratheon's heart against Jon did not go said. But then again, it didn't need to be. It was a fact, and they all knew it.

"A lapse of judgment on my part, I admit to my shame." Ned said sadly. "But it is not an insurmountable problem, and one for which I have a solution in mind."

"You wish to claim him as your bastard, thus hiding the truth from the world." Elia said. It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact. "Is that really the life you want to give your sister's son, that of a bastard's?"

That the boy _was_ a bastard also went unsaid, but Ned bristled. "And would that be any different from the life you would give him, Your Highness?" he asked coldly.

"He is no bastard to my family." She replied coolly to Ned's surprise, and carried on as though she were merely discussing the weather. "And even if he were I am of Dorne. We have a less…judgmental view of base-birth compared to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. Even if Jon were to be a bastard – which he will not be – he would find life less…burdensome than it would be in other of the Seven Kingdoms."

Ned looked shocked, so much so that Elia had to supress the instinct to laugh. "He…he is not a bastard…you legitimized him?" he choked out.

"Not I…" Elia corrected. "…my good-mother did. A dragon with the blood of a wolf she said, so that shall be the name of his House: Prince Jon Wolfsblood, a cadet of House Targaryen."

Ned looked down at his hands, his troubled face showing how deep in thought he was. It was Lord Howland Reed who spoke next. "With respect Your Highness…" he said. "…by legitimizing Jon, have you not enmeshed him into the inevitable quarrel over the Iron Throne? Forgive me, but I must ask: is this truly better than life as a bastard?"

"He will be dragged into the struggle for the Iron Throne either way." Elia said, leaning forward. "Even as a bastard, he would inevitably be dragged in as Jon would support whichever family raised him. Assuming of course, that a struggle for the Iron Throne is inevitable that is."

Howland's eyebrows rose at that and Ned lifted his face. The man was by no means stupid, and he could read between the lines easily enough. "You expect us to believe that House Targaryen would just surrender its claim to the Iron Throne?" he asked.

"I have done nothing to make you distrust me in any way." Elia replied as cool as ever. "I can tell you this much: my good-mother believes that given all the tragedies that have befallen House Targaryen due to struggles over the Iron Throne – the Dance of Dragons, the Blackfyre Rebellions, and the Defiance of Duskendale just to name a few – it is better for the family to start anew elsewhere, without the shadow of the past hanging over us. And if there is anyone apart from you and I who knows the shadow of the past all too well, it is her."

They all fell into pensive silent at that, well aware of the whispers of how the King's growing madness had exacted increasing tolls to the members of his family. One need only look at the prematurely-aged face of the former queen to see that. "You saw it then?" Ned asked simply.

"Yes…" Elia replied in a whisper, her face haunted and her eyes empty. "…I saw it. I was there for the burning, and for every burning before and after. It was our duty he said, to attend to him as he attended to his own."

Elia closed her eyes and looked away, the shame and horror at being only able to watch what had been done to the Starks. "Forgive me…" Ned finally said. "…I did not wish to invoke painful memories."

Elia shook her head. "It is of no concern my lord." She said with a smile. "I apologize as well. It seems that I allowed my emotions to get the better of me. More to the point I agree with her. If I can give my children a better life _without_ having to deal with the burden and apparent curse of the Iron Throne then I will take it."

Ned nodded, and Elia took a deep breath. "I will not surrender Jon to your custody my lord." She continued. "At the risk of insulting you I believe that I can give him a better life in exile than he would have in the land of his mother, and given his status as a prince I would not want him to be the wedge between you and your friend, Lord Baratheon."

Ned sighed and nodded in his turn. "It burdens me to say this." He admitted. "But I cannot in good conscience go against your custody of Jon. If Lyanna were alive…"

Ned trailed off and shook his head. "May I at least see him, just this once." He asked, and Elia smiled.

"My lord I am not a selfish woman." She said. "I would not be so cruel as to deprive you or Jon of the chance to be known to each other. You may send and receive letters if that is your wish, and of course visits – secretly of course – may be arranged. Keep in mind that while you think best of your friend, we must also think of Jon's safety. And Lord Baratheon will not be kindly disposed to him."

Ned winced at the slight to his old friend, but he knew he could not deny it. Robert's fury at and hatred of the Targaryens had been stoked to even greater heights by the news of Lyanna's death and how, and it would get even worse once he learned that Jon was a Targaryen prince.

 _Damned if you do, damned if you don't._

"I understand Your Highness. And thank you."

"Come…" Elia said, rising from her chair to beckon further into the Mopatis residence. "…I believe this is a good time as any if you wish to meet your nephew. And the queen wishes to speak to you. I believe that she wishes to make an apology for the actions of both her husband and brother both."

"I…I see."

* * *

"Why are we only finding out about this now?" Robert Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms raged at his Small Council.

"The Targaryen fleet has placed a blockade around the Stepstones Your Grace." Varys answered. "And apparently the Free Cities of Myr, Lys, and Tyrosh have thrown their support behind House Targaryen, and have been hushing up word of what is happening to the south. And while I would normally be able to discern the truth from mere rumour and hearsay at a much quicker pace, the recent…upheaval has greatly disrupted my network of spies across the sea…"

"Enough…!" Robert thundered, slamming a fist against the table. "I will not suffer those damn dragonspawn catching their second wind to threaten my rule and that of my House! How long and what will it take to prepare to deal with this…uprising?"

"Robert, calm down and think." Jon Arryn said sternly. Robert glared at his Hand, but subsided at the stern but fatherly expression on the other man's face. "As things stand we could continue the war against House Targaryen, but victory would be seriously in question. Even with the new Royal Fleet we have built and the Lannister fleet at our disposal, we would not be guaranteed of victory, given the support that certain Free Cities have thrown behind House Targaryen…"

"The Reach has a fleet too, doesn't it?"

"The loyalty of which is in question." Jon smoothly parried. "It would not do at all if the Reach fleet turned on us in the midst of the battle, crushing the Royal and Lannister fleets against the Targaryen and Free City fleets. There are also other dangers to continuing a war against the Targaryens, among the loyalty of Dorne, to say nothing of the possibility of more Free Cities joining the Targaryen side."

"Lord Arryn you cannot be serious!" Lord Hoster Tully, Lord of Riverrun and Lord Paramount of the Riverlands, Master of Law exclaimed. "Are you suggesting then that we give into these demands? They are outrageous in the extreme!"

House Targaryen renounces any and all claims to the Iron Throne.

In return for a renunciation of royal claims to the Seven Kingdoms, House Targaryen declares its independence and would seek Westeros' recognition of the Principality of the Ember Islands (formerly the Stepstone Islands).

House Targaryen would also seek the return of their ancestral lands, namely Dragonstone and its surrounding islands.

"I wouldn't go that far…" Jon began only to be cut off by Robert.

"So we don't go to war against them." He ground out. "Fine…but if that's the case then here are my answers to their demands. Yes to the first, and no to the rest. They can have the Stepstones, but those are _our_ land. They want them, then they have to bend knee. Let them stay with Dorne if they want. But I will **NOT** give them Dragonstone. They must be mad – of course they're mad they're dragonspawn – if they think I'll let them have something as important as that island and its surroundings."

"That's…about as harsh if not more so than what they gave us." Jon said mildly, and the council stared at him. He looked at Robert. "I would say yes to the first two, and no to their third demand." He said, and then held up a hand to forestall Robert's angry retort. "Apart from the fact that the Targaryens would never accept it, the Free Cities – in particular Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh – would never accept the Stepstones finally becoming part of the Seven Kingdoms. In fact that is probably the other reason why those three cities backed the Targaryens. The first is obviously the fact that even if they have to pay tolls and everything else when passing through the Stepstones, the elimination of the pirates on those islands would be a huge boon, directly by greatly-reducing the occurrence of pirate attacks, and indirectly by also greatly-reducing the need for them to hire additional protection for their trade ships."

"And the second reason…?" Robert asked. "We could provide all that if we have the Stepstones."

"Except the Free Cities would not want Westeros to hold those islands, as it would leave them open to invasion from the south." Jon explained. "The second reason is that Targaryen control of those islands means they get the benefits of the first reason, _without_ having exposed their flank to invasion from Westeros."

The Small Council fell silent, and Robert angrily rubbed his forehead. "Fine…" he ground out. "…we'll do things your way Jon. I hate to say this, but I hope that you're not wrong on this count."

"For the Targaryens to get a second wind as you call it they must build up their power base from almost bottom-up." Jon replied, smiling coolly at Robert. "That's not a problem we face, isn't it?"

Robert scoffed, but he eventually nodded in assent. "No." he finally admitted. "That it is not."

* * *

"So…" Rhaella said as she reclined in the Sun on the deck of the Targaryen flagship as it made its way to their new home in the south. "…Robert would give us everything but Dragonstone. Well to be honest I didn't think he would. That island is much too close to King's Landing and the Crownlands for comfort."

"With that said…" Elia began. "…I don't think Viserys or Aegon when he grows up would tolerate the loss of their ancestral seat for long. And I can't help but sympathize."

"I do too." Rhaella said with a sigh, stroking her belly gently. "This is what we do: we accept their offer, but state that while we acknowledge their refusal to return Dragonstone to us, we will not surrender our claims to the Targaryen ancestral seat."

"Will Robert accept?"

"No…" Rhaella said with a shake of her head. "…he probably won't. Jon Arryn will though. It's the closest thing to a compromise that saves face for both sides." The two women fell silent, Elia looking around and spotting Rhaenys with Viserys on the other side of the deck, the former clutching a dragon egg in place of her pet cat, which she'd been forced to leave behind on King's Landing.

"The Ember Islands…" Elia said after a moment, watching as the islands passed by to the side of their ship on its way to Bloodstone. "…in a way it fits, the last embers of Old Valyria, ruled by the last dragonlords."

"Indeed…" Rhaella said with a smile. "…quite fitting if I may say so. I would also change the name of Bloodstone to a less…provocative and more welcoming one. Trade and security will be the key to future prosperity, and with it a new beginning for our family."

Elia nodded her agreement, knowing they had ample funds upon which to draw on to build a foundation for the future. Before leaving Dragonstone, Ser Willem Darry had stripped the fortress of virtually all valuables: the private treasury of House Targaryen (gold and silver in both coin and ingot), jewels, priceless heirloom and artefacts (they had all the crowns of the Targaryen Kings save for Aegon IV's which was lost with Aerys II at King's Landing) some of which went back to Old Valyria, tapestries and other costly fabrics, books, scrolls, and webs of lore and history…the master-at-arms had left behind only the easily-replaceable and therefore not as valuable items. Everything else he took…including House Targaryen's greatest treasure: their hoard of dragon eggs.

Time had turned them to cold stone, and so they felt to Elia and others. But Rhaella and all other Targaryens felt warmth from them, though Rhaella herself had not kept an egg for herself. She had however insisted that Viserys, Aegon, Rhaenys, and even Jon be given an egg each. Viserys left his in his cabin, and needless to say Aegon and Jon's eggs were kept close by the boys, while Rhaenys carried her egg – which she'd come to call Balerion much to Elia's uneasy amusement – with her wherever she went.

"What name did you have in mind?" Elia asked as she spotted Bloodstone and the rest of the Targaryen fleet in the distance.

"Dragon's Nest…it shall be Dragon's Nest and it will be our home from this point on."

* * *

A/N

The geography of Bloodstone is not known to me, so I made one up instead.


	4. Tyrion I

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, names, and any copyrighted material used in this work. This is a fanfic, period. Everything belongs to their respective owners. Comments and constructive criticism are all very much appreciated.

Spoils for the Dragon King

Tyrion I

The great ship sailed into the harbour of Dragon's Nest, white sails ballooning with the wind, white foam breaking into sparkling sprays over the clean-scrubbed wood of its hull. A golden mountain on a red field flew proud in the wind above the mast, sailors rushing to and fro over the deck as they went about preparing their ship for harbour.

The master of the ship stood proudly on the foredeck, arms crossed before his chest, one foot jauntily placed on a low wooden box beside the rail, mismatched yet intelligent eyes fixed over the blue waves to the steadily-building visage of Dragon's Nest in the distance. The ship crested and broke over choppy waves, the sea rising in tumult to the strong wind, but the man stood unmoved by the rough going of his ship, windswept hair the colour of gold darkly gleaming in the high morning Sun, lips fixed into a roguish smile. He was the master. By his will fortunes rose and fell, at his command ships sailed and men marched to their fates, and by his words lords trembled. His name was…

"Lord Tyrion…!" an alarmed female voice rang out over the deck, and Tyrion Lannister scowled as he realized his 'minder' had finally caught up to him. Well it was inevitable really.

" _My dear Jaime, why on Earth would you think it's a mountain? It's a_ _ **hill**_ _._ "

"… _a hill…really Tyrion?_ "

"Ah Mirillia…" Tyrion said, turning away from the rail and walking over to meet his stewardess, Mirillia of Braavos. "…what is so concerning that it requires that I halt my enjoyment of this fine sea air…?"

"Well first of all my lord considering how…choppy the waves are today, I would say that you should find someplace safer to enjoy the sea air. I doubt we'll be getting much thanks if we have to fish you out of the water because a particularly high wave rocked the ship hard enough that you went overboard."

"Actually you would…" Tyrion said, walking over to where he knew the customs crew would be coming aboard. "…you wouldn't leave floundering about in the water, would you now?"

"Of course not…" Mirillia said. "…getting back to the matter at hand there's the matter of the customs crew…"

"Yes, yes I know already. It's such a bother, but I suppose it's inevitable for a place that thrives on trade: tolls, fees, and taxes…ah, here we go!"

Tyrion stood and waited while the lighter customs ship moved alongside his ship, the trade ship _Pride of the West_ , modest by all accounts but for Tyrion it was the foundation of his fortune, a gift from his brother Jaime seven years ago, and as such he had a special fondness for it in his heart. It might have to be replaced some years down the line as wear and tear to its toll, but until then he would cherish his ship.

It took a bit longer than usual for the customs crew – a fussy man with a Pentosi accent accompanied by a native boy as his assistant and a couple of guards – to come aboard. Pleasantries were exchanged, itineraries were inspected followed by the cargo itself, some coins openly (the customs fee) and discreetly (the bribe) changed hands, and finally Tyrion and his ship were allowed to go on their way.

"Capital, just capital…" Tyrion said cheerfully as he poured some wine from a skin into a cup, handed it to the captain with a nod, and then poured some more wine into another cup. "…would you care for a drink as well Mirillia?"

"Thank you my lord but no." she said with an apologetic smile. "You know that wine doesn't agree with me at sea."

"A shame that…" Tyrion noted, taking a drink and resuming his 'enjoyment' of the sea air until finally the ship was docking at one of the quays of Dragon's Nest's harbour. Mirillia had vanished a few minutes beforehand, and now returned labouring with a small crate.

"Hey…." Tyrion snapped to a sailor who didn't appear to be doing anything. "…where are your manners, man? Can't you see a lady in need?"

Grumbling, the sailor took the chest from Mirillia while Tyrion entrusted her with the offloading of the cargo – steel from Braavos, cloths from Lorath, glass, lace, and other finished goods from Myr, spirits and wines from Tyrosh and Volantis, luxury goods from Lys, and many other goods from the length and breadth of Essos – from their journey along the coast of Essos. After promising her that yes he would not allow himself to get distracted by the comforts of the Sunset Citadel and he would inspect their warehouses before sunset, Tyrion wandered off of his ship and down the ramp followed by the sailor with the securely-bound chest.

A man was waiting for him on the ground, accompanied by a horse and a pony. "Little brother…" Ser Jaime Lannister of the Dragonsguard said with a smile, a smile that Tyrion returned before the brothers enjoyed a hug.

"Jaime…" Tyrion said as he stepped back. "…it's good to see you again."

"Likewise…" Jaime said as he took the chest and raised an eyebrow at Tyrion.

"Oh don't give me that look." Tyrion huffed while dismissing the sailor with a silver throne and a gesture. "It's a gift, so I don't see why I should…provide extra for it."

"Well if you put it that way…" Jaime finally conceded, loading the chest onto his horse before mounting while Tyrion did likewise for his pony. "…what's in it?"

"The usual…" Tyrion answered as they rode up towards the city of Dragon's Nest. "…trinkets and curiosities for Rhaenys, maps for Aegon, books and scrolls for Jon and Daenerys, and of course something for dear little Daena."

"Still as evasive as ever, aren't you Tyrion?" Jaime said, and Tyrion gave a barking laugh.

"It wouldn't be a gift now if it weren't a surprise."

"There is no one here but you and me." Jaime said with a straight face, and Tyrion laughed before gesturing an arm around at the harbour.

"Rhaenys has eyes and ears everywhere dear brother." Tyrion said. "And of course there's her little hobby."

This time Jaime did laugh, as only Tyrion would call Rhaenys' dabbles in magic a 'hobby'. He didn't press the issue though, instead exchanging small talk and tales from Tyrion's journey even as they passed out of the harbour through Viserys' Gate – so named because six years ago here Viserys spilled his blood and used the power contained within to boil the blood of hundreds of Ironborn in their very veins – and into the city proper. It took a while before they entered the High Quarter of the city, and finally passed over the threshold of the Sunset Citadel, seat of the Prince of the Ember Islands and home to House Targaryen.

"Uncle Tyrion…!" a high-pitched voice rang through the air of the entrance hall, and Tyrion grinned as he braced himself to avoid getting knocked to the floor as his niece literally ran him into a hug.

"Daena…!" he said as he pushed the little girl away. "How have you been? Hopefully fit and happy, I would say. If not then shame on your father for not ensuring it is so."

Jaime threw a half-hearted glare at Tyrion, but Tyrion just shrugged it off. Eight year-old Daena Sand giggled, followed by the rich laughter of Princess Rhaenys Targaryen as she arrived accompanied by her ladies-in-waiting, all daughters of Valyrian-blooded noblemen who'd sworn allegiance to her brother and their house and had become lords of the Ember Islands. As usual the princess wore a loose-fitting dress of gold and red that exposed most of her arms and a generous amount of cleavage, while gold and rubies around her neck, ankles, and wrists flashed in the candlelight. Her ladies-in-waiting wore similar attire and apparel, though none as richly as their mistress.

"Your Highness…" Tyrion said with a short bow, and Rhaenys' lips curled into a smile.

"Lord Tyrion…" she returned formally. "…now that formalities have been settled, welcome back to Dragon's Nest, Tyrion."

"Likewise little Rhae…"

Rhaenys laughed and beckoned them further inside. "Not so little anymore…" Rhaenys said. "…though I imagine you'll be calling me that for a long while yet, isn't that right?"

"Well I wouldn't know about _that_." He replied, and everyone laughed.

The Sunset Citadel as it was renamed by Princess Rhaella Targaryen before her death was once the castle of Daemon Targaryen, King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea, and was fairly-typical of Westerosi castles. The centuries had not been kind, but this was surprisingly of opportunity to the Targaryens, who had employed Essosi architects and engineers to not simply repair the caste, but to expand it, to strengthen its defences to a level equal to the keeps of the Seven Kingdoms, all with the luxuries expected of a Lyseni palace.

And they had succeeded. It had been expensive, but reconstruction of the Sunset Citadel had gone hand-in-hand with the settlement and development of the archipelago, so the financial burden wasn't nearly as bad as some had feared. Now an assault on Dragon's Nest would first have to get past the Targaryen fleet, then the harbour defences, then the individually-fortified terraces of the city, and then the fortifications of the High Quarter – further strengthened through generous donations by Prince Aegon's noble vassals – before any enemy could reach the Sunset Citadel's own walls.

It would be nothing less than a bloodbath.

"So…" Tyrion began. "…where is everyone?"

"Am I somehow boring you, Lord Tyrion?"

"Hardly…" Tyrion scoffed. "…you yourself are quite the sight to behold Your Highness, as are your ladies-in-waiting. And while I would not presume to your rank, they on the other hand…"

Tyrion winked and smiled at one of the ladies who caught his eye, and the girl blushed and giggled. "Please refrain from bedding my ladies Tyrion…" Rhaenys said, though with a note of amusement. "…we might not be as…backward as the Seven Kingdoms apart from Dorne can be, but still…we must keep some standards. Choose a paramour if you do not wish to be married, but be loyal to her. Ser Jaime is quite the example if I might be so bold."

Tyrion laughed at that though Jaime looked a bit embarrassed. Not as backward as Westeros…well he'd known that for a long time now. He'd only been twelve – barely two years after Robert's Rebellion – when he'd decided to take his chances and had fled Casterly Rock after stealing some gold for the journey to the Ember Islands.

Tywin Lannister had been furious of course, and had sent out search parties to bring him back. " _Funny how much father despises me and yet kept me close._ " Tyrion thought. Tywin had believed that Tyrion would choose speed over caution, and would head south for Dorne via the Reach and thence to the Ember Islands, or with the cover of audacity make for King's Landing and thence by ship head for the Ember Islands.

He was wrong of course, and Tyrion had instead gone north to Gulltown, and thence by ship to Braavos. From there it was an overland trip down the coast of Essos to the Ember Islands, where he was received a year after his departure by a surprised Jaime.

The Targaryens had been a bit distrustful at first, but Jaime vouching for him had given him some breathing room, and eventually he had proven himself worthy of the dragons' trust. Despite his short stature and youth, he – along with the priestess-sorceress Melisandre and other scholars from Essos (not maesters the Targaryens didn't trust them though Tyrion couldn't blame them after the betrayal of Grand Maester Pycelle) – had had a role in the younger Targaryens' education.

But Tyrion had striven to prove himself as his brother had, and was ill-content to remain a guest of the Targaryen family. Jaime had noticed, and on his seventeenth name-day he'd been gifted a trade ship of his own and some starting money, and with it a chance to make a name for himself. And he had.

He wasn't _quite_ a merchant prince yet, but he had sizeable sums to his name, and a good reputation among the ports of call along the Essosi coast. He also had in addition to the _Pride of the West_ a second trade ship for long-distance journeys, and five smaller vessels for ferrying and other short trips along the archipelago of the Ember Islands between Essos and Dorne. Not bad for someone who'd only been plying the trade for seven years to date.

"Prince Oberyn is quite an example, too isn't he?" Jaime quipped. "There are eight Sand Snakes now, aren't they? All different mothers too."

"Uncle Oberyn is a special case." Rhaenys said with a cough, and the Lannister brothers shared a glance and a laugh.

"So where is the family?" Tyrion asked as they arrived at a shaded balcony with a lunch table prepared.

"Aegon and Viserys are sailing in the south." Rhaenys replied as she took her seat, followed by the others. "Apparently they're on their way back, but they'll be making straight for Sunspear and thence to the Water Gardens."

"Ah…and your mother and other brother…?"

"Jon and mother are at the Water Gardens already." Rhaenys said as servants began to serve lunch for the princess and her companions. "As for Daenerys…"

"She is here." Daenerys interrupted and returned her niece's nod of greeting. "Hello Lord Tyrion."

"Dany…" Tyrion said as he cheerfully returned her hug, the other Targaryen princess taking a seat beside Daena. "…so the wedding will proceed as planned then?"

"I certainly hope so." Jaime answered. "Not much point in going through all this effort only to squander it all in the end."

"I wonder what the Fat King thinks of all this." Tyrion mused as he broke a load in half.

"He's not happy, though that's to be expected." Rhaenys said with relish. "Apparently Jon Arryn tried to get it called off, but Uncle Doran managed to convince the man to let it go as a sign of peace."

"Apparently they're sending the one called Littlefinger – what a strange name – as the crown's representative to my brother and Princess Arianne's wedding." Daenerys put in. "Also, we've been invited to Renly Baratheon and Margaery Tyrell's wedding at Highgarden in a few months' time."

Tyrion choked on a piece of meat at that. "Renly…?" he echoed. "The Fat King must be desperate to bind the Tyrells to his house if the rumours about his brother are to be believed. And Littlefinger…is this supposed to be some kind of joke?"

"Officially it's because neither Robert nor Jon Arryn can spare anyone else from King's Landing right now." Jaime said. "It's quite obvious though that yes, this is a form of mockery in its own way."

"Let them mock us." Rhaenys said unconcernedly. "I have seen what I have seen."

Jaime and everyone else at the table looked a bit uncomfortable – except for Daena who was much too young to understand – at the reminder of her penchant for divination and magic. Eventually it was Daenerys who broke the silence. "Do they truly think that we would accept the invitation though?" she asked. "The tale of Aenys Blackfyre is not forgotten."

"Aegon has no inclination of accepting, and neither do I." Rhaenys said. "Do you?"

"No, but brother does."

"Viserys…?" Tyrion echoed. "That's…very incautious of him."

"Not really…" Daenerys disagreed. "…by then he'd be married to Princess Arianne, and Jon Arryn no even Fat Robert would never be so stupid as to insult House Martell by seizing and beheading the future ruling princess' consort and thus provoke a full-scale revolt. Not to mention Lord Stark will be attending. I doubt the man would tolerate much less accept such a course of action, and Fat Robert values his friend's opinion too greatly to provoke him."

"So Viserys will be safe safe then…" Tyrion said. "…well a prince compared to a petty lord…we're certainly honouring them more than they honour us."

"And in so doing prove their own inferiority." Daenerys said, and everyone shared a laugh.

"Ah, that reminds me…!" Tyrion said, and gestured at a nearby servant to bring his chest over along with a small table to place it on. He unlocked the chest and began to hand out his gifts.

"For Rhaenys, scrolls and reagents from the interior, Lys, and the city of shadows…"

"No reagents at the dining table…"

"Yes, yes, I know…which is why I had it placed in a box of its own."

Rhaenys smiled at that and accepted the offered box with soft words of gratitude, even as Tyrion continued with his giving. Books and scrolls of lore for Daenerys and Jon (even if Jon wasn't present to receive them), the two Targaryens most inclined to the scholarly side of life, though Jon was no slouch when it came to more, manly pursuits, and maps for Aegon, who even now was known by his people as the Mariner, for his love of the sea and ships, and the freedom of the open waves, and mechanical toys of astonishing complexity from Myr for little Daena.

"No gifts for me, little brother?" Jaime asked with faux hurt as they returned to their meal, and Tyrion looked shocked at him.

"Is not my presence after so long a present in itself, Jaime?" he asked, and Jaime laughed before patting his little brother heartily on the back. Eventually the meal came to an end, and a bemused Rhaenys took a sleepy Daena to her bed for an afternoon nap, Jaime went to see to his duties, and Tyrion decided to go and check up on Mirillia and his cargoes.

"Might I accompany you, Lord Tyrion?" Princess Daenerys Targaryen asked. "It's one thing to read of merchants and their comings and goings in books, but to see it is another."

"Indeed…" Tyrion agreed. "…very well, I will await you at the citadel's entrance while you go and make ready."

Daenerys nodded, and went off to prepare. Tyrion took a final drink of fine Dornish wine, and then he too went off to his own business.

* * *

A/N

It is now 297 AC.

Rhaenys (17)

Aegon (15)

Jon (14)

Dany (13)

Try and guess who Daena Sand's mother is. There's a reason she lives in the Sunset Citadel apart from the fact that her father is Jaime Lannister, and no, she's not a Sand Snake. And if any of you say its Rhaenys or Daenerys, shame on you. Jaime's not a pedophile.


End file.
